Note the incongruity of the two messages being communicated here.

First, there is the explicit message of the words themselves, identifying this establishment as both (A) a laundromat and (B) more specifically, the laundromat being owned and operated by, or named in honor of, Bing Wong.

Second, there is the the message implicit in the lettering: Old, blackletter-style forms normally communicate history, stability, and an established, here-for-many-years-to-come quality. But in this case, the forms are physicalized in faded, brittle plastic that directly negates any truth to that claim. Judged by its letters alone, the place looks like it’s falling apart.

It’s hard to interpret the signmaker’s intent, and this confusion is what makes it interesting. You have to wonder, was this lettering choice deliberate, and if so, what was the intended message? Or, did these red plastic letters just happen to be on sale when Bing Wong was setting up shop?

On top of that, who would associate a Chinese name with a blackletter form that descended from Western Europe? When those letterforms evolved, the two cultures were hardly aware of each other’s existence (not to mention the fact that electricity and indoor plumbing — -essential components of laundromats — -wouldn’t be developed until centuries later).

How po-mo is that?